Female Empowerment; Part I

As those close to me know, I have many strong, independent female friends. Additionally, I have been fortunate to have a confident and intelligent mother and three powerful and witty sisters. In America, I still see females facing challenges that I do not have to face. Because of my upbringing with a focus on equality, I find it very natural to play soccer with both boys and girls. However, I have found my experience in Africa to be quite different than America. Looking at the picture to the left, one can see how difficult it is for little African girls. Here, the 7 year old sister was asked to watch her younger brother at the same time as our session. She was not to be deterred. She asked if it was ok if she just did her drills with her brother on her back. I of course allowed the amazing feat to happen. The next day there were more girls carrying their siblings. This resolve continues to leave my mouth wide open. Knowing that I carried a 50 pound bag for three months across three countries for the girls' program here in Kigoma makes me feel great inside.

All the best,

Christian

Jambo Augustin!

One of the realities of this voluntour is that I cannot readily return to the USA to welcome my new nephew into our family. So, this blog post will be my way of saying Jambo and I love you to Augustin Vaughn Capuzzi. Of course, I will also use this post to congratulate Peter, Rocco, Stella, Big Pete and of course Mama Capuzzi -- Lorelei! I wish I could be there to help change the diapers but I am sure I can lend a hand in December...

Love your Favorite Uncle (start the process early),
Christian

My friendly neighbor...

Hello my younger voluntourists. Many of you have been asking me to upload a photo of some wildlife I have seen. I have many pictures and will try to add them as my connection gets better but here is one of a friendly hand I saw not far from my sleeping quarters. Fortunately there was a wall between us or else the crocodile's hand/paw/foot (?) would have been too close for comfort. I didn't sleep well because of the closeness anyway...

Be safe and I love you all,

Uncle Christian

The Ham Represents

By coincidence or providence, I met up with the uncle of a friend with whom I went to Framingham North High Scool. We are Spartans! Joseph "Joe" Morrisey, uncle of Mike, grew up in the Saxonville neighborhood of Framingham, MA (known to many as The Ham). Since 1969, Joe has been tirelessly helping the deaf, the blind and many others with physical disabilities throughout the world but mainly in Africa. Joe has a quiet demeanor but is obviously a strong, dedicated man to his personal mission and blessed with immense patience. Throughout 2009, I have met many wonderful people. Joe will go near the top of the list for his hard work and welcoming persona. My parents remain at the top.
Last week, Joe kindly invited me to come along with him to the Mkasanda School for the deaf and deaf-blind, just outside of Moshi town here in Northern Tanzania. Although this was a rest day, I jumped at the chance to meet these kids and I loved every minute of it. After driving some 10 km, 5 of which were on a horrendously bumpy dirt road that made New Orleans streets seem flat and well maintained, we arrived at a small boarding school secluded in a half rain forest/half cow pasture grounds. After an introduction to the head mistress, by slowly spelling out my name in ASL, I learned that my meager sign language skills might get me by for the day. Importantly, only one letter from ASL (American Sign Language) didn't translate to the Tanzanian counterpart - the T. I put the correct way of making that letter in the memory bank and was off to see a class comprised of 10 teenagers. After a few minutes of observation, the teacher surprisingly asked me if I would teach her Math class. She then walked out of the class before a response. For the next 30 minutes I channeled all my energy to try and best explain how to multiply and divide fractions, through sign language, in a strange combination of Kiswahili and English. Shockingly, I think 80% of the class understood me, and I didn't make any math mistakes (that anyone can prove). Yes, I was secretly glistening (sweating profusely), but loving the challenge. However, not satisfied with my less than perfect percentage, I tried a few other tricks Framingham Math great Mr. DiDomenico taught me many moons ago, and by the end, I am confident they all could do the exercises of the day!
Slightly drained, I recovered by sharing a cup of chai (tea) with some full time deaf volunteers who had a much better grasp of English than I do of Kiswahili. After a short rest I was offered the chance to run a sports session. With 80+ smiling faces in front of me, I quickly found boundless energy and we had 2 hours of soccer instruction and games, including some education on health and fitness. Highlights from the game included watching a family of cows parade through the center of the pitch without a care, listening to the quiet laughter of these children enjoy a special day, and lastly, appreciating the refereeing by the children of their game without any whining.
When I finally hit the pillow under my lovely mosquito net, and I stopped my brain from frantically recalling math lessons from my days at Juniper Hill, Walsh, FNHS, and with GU's Prof. Bobo, I truly felt the Ham had represented itself quite well for the day.

Wikend jami,
Christian


PS - So that these wonderful students would always remember The Ham, I donated two soccer balls that had been brought over to Africa by my father on his wonderful recent visit with my mother. [See Schmoopies to the left...] I presented the two soccer balls in honor of two loved ones - Aunt Grace and Joel B. The school, and Joe M., appreciated the gift immensely.

19-0

I often have to stop and admire the strength and resolve of the children with whom I work. Most days I encounter smiling faces wearing torn and battered shorts and t-shirts that have obviously been passed on from charitable organizations across the world, but mostly from the US. While I have heard economic arguments that say providing donated clothes hurts local textile merchants, I don't see how one could stop giving clothes when I see too many cold, barely clothed kids. I will leave the long term economic challenges to greater minds, and keep appreciating the short term, survival economics I see happening. Besides, the slogans on the t-shirts really crack me up. Some of my favorites include: "Fishing for Jesus: Dallas Lutheran Church Fundraiser;" "Marlboro High School Soccer" because it was the closest to home; "Sexy and Single" on a grandmother holding two children and carrying a stack of branches on her head that would have crushed my skull. Today, however, I laughed out loud when I saw a special shirt and I immediately thought of many of my voluntourists. It was dark blue and had a Patriots logo and read "19-0: The Perfect Season". I knew these shirts must have been printed and always said they would just be shipped off to some remote place, and today that statement was confirmed - apparently remote is Moshi, Tanzania where I currently find myself.
As the college and professional football seasons begin, and you cheer on your teams (Go Canes!), please enjoy yourself and think about donating your old summer clothes so that next year African children are not all dressed in Notre Dame National Champions Shirts and Philadelphia Eagles Super Bowl Champions sweatshirts.

Tutaonana,
Christian

The Terrible Train Accident?

Due to some unforeseen wedding plans of our CAC partner in Kigoma, I have had the luxury of spending some time in Dar es Salaam and catching up on paperwork -- reports, power points, videos, press, etc. With the added time I can now explore alternative means of traveling to Kigoma from Dar. Since I have taken buses, cars, planes, dallah dallahs, rickshaws, mopeds, and even some others methods, I thought it woudl be nice to explore the trains! Having loved John Candy and Steve Martin's film Planes, Trains and Automobiles, I really desire to get the train leg in so I can produce a sequel. Using Google, I punched in a search looking at Kigoma trains and schedules. The first result was titled "The Terrible Train Accident" and discussed a relatively recent train accident on the one train I would take. Having read a few more articles on the train across Tanzania and the possible day long delays, lack of bathrooms, etc., I decided I will be taking a bus to Moshi (so I can see Mt. Kilimanjaro), a flight to Mwanza and then a bus to Kigoma.

On a side note, I wish Mr. Evan Johnstone a Happiest of Birthdays!

Tutaonana,
Christian

Two Karibu

Jambo arafiki! (Hello friends!) I have officially left the beautiful, and friendly country of Turquoise blue water, lush palm trees, and a humid climate ala Miami. And with my unshaven face, I was playing the part of Sonny Crockett as best I could. Yes, granted I had a shaved head and not DJ's golden locks, and of course I smelled a bit, probably a lot, but work with me here. Could as I could be in this unknown country, I grabbed a cab to the city centre, after bartering the price down 10,000 shilling. Paved roads and streetlights? I was not in Kansas Malawi anymore. I arrived at the Jambo Inn, the higher priced hotel that I could book online from Malawi. Since all the numbers in the Lonely Planet book were wrong for Tanzania (yes all of them, as the country added new numbers since publication), I chose the one I could actually book. And why not pamper myself for one night. I walked the four flights of stairs with my two large bags, I came upon my dank, barren room, with one bulb providing light to the all white, well dirty gray, tiling. The room had a nice mattress, a fan, and a non-functioning toilet. So much for having paid a little extra for one night of comfort. With a pang of hunger in my stomach, and the opportunity to have something other than chicken and chips (fries), I head to the canteen downstairs, after having fixed the toilet issue myself. The kind waiter handed me my menu, and left. I opened it and read: karibu, samaki, chapatti, ugali, etc. Since none of those words had any meaning to me, I figured I would just point to one and hope for the best. Since I was hungry, I asked for Two Karibu. Maybe it was meat? A blank stare, and then a chuckle. Did I just order something crazy? I have a long history of that. Sushi ice cream cones. Ting ting in SA. You name it, I have probably ordered it. I repeated my order and pointed this time hoping to clear up any confusion. Another laugh. Hmmm. The waiter then said Karibu, Karibu and asked again for my order, in English. He explained that I had just ordered two "Welcomes!" With a red face, and a laugh myself, I ordered mayai (turned out to be eggs). Delicious.
Since that day, I have begun to learn a few more words than just Jambo. Proudly, I can order coffee, eggs, bread, hot or cold water, and some other meat dishes. Each day I learn a bit more, and hopefully will be able to order a full day of food soon:) And, I guess I will not be having any caribou any time soon.

Kwa herri,
Simba